His Fury
by SamCole
Summary: Hoorah! Angst ridden story time! Abusive!Dean! Character death ad heart wretching drama! One sided Sam/Dean! Don't like? I'm sorry for you but please don't flame me to harshly. I'm a serious failure at summaries but for more detail veiw the story!


**A/n: This is a very angst ridden story involving character death, abuse and one-sided Sam/Dean. Not you cup of tea? How unfortunate. Don't read. For all of you who enjoy this please read and review for they make my little Okami heart all smileys. **

** Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural what purpose would there be in writing this fanfiction. So no, I do not own this. T.T**

**His Fury**

Sam probably should have ran from the elder Winchester when he had managed to drink himself into such a blind rage that he destroyed an inanimate object that happened to touch his calloused finger-tips. Sam was frightened even though at the age of seventeen he was taller than his elder, drunken brother. His height did nothing for him though; he was all sharp angles, lean limbs and the clumsiest human being alive. Their dad was unfortunately away on some hunt that he 'needed to handle on his own' and it enraged his eldest son because it was Dean's twenty-first birthday. Sam agreed with Dean, it was an important day to any male and their father _should _be with his son for it. Sam had decided to treat his brother to some alcohol to make up for their father's absence but the alcohol had gone down far to easy and now Dean's pent-up rage was being released with all its war-like glory.

The eldest of the Winchester boys was ranting, raving and swearing so violently that it shocked Sam. He had finally surpassed the screaming and had moved on to crushing the random objects in the hotel that they had no way of paying for and/or replacing. Dean's current victim is the hideous lamp on the bedside table that-despite how ugly it was-did not deserve to be thrown into the wall. The glass shattered and coated the floor causing Sam to flinch.

"Dean…maybe you should…calm down…?" Sam said softly, gently as he tried to sooth his brother.

It was only a suggestion but it seemed as though all Dean heard was an insult. He turned sharply on his heels, swayed, but managed to stay upright which was a miracle in and of itself. He shoved Sam into the wall with a force that was usually reserved for demons and other evil supernatural creatures. "Don' you t-tell me what to d-do!" He slurred and screamed in Sam's face, his breath chocking the teen.

Sam flinched and looked down in an attempt to hide his fear from his big brother. Dean must've mistaken the action for something else and gave the taller Winchester a sardonic snort and a drunken glare. "Bet if it was your d-damn birthday h-he'd be here," Dean growled and slurred the 'th' in 'birthday'.

Sam felt a pang of guilt because he knew Dean was right. He had never done anything exponential to earn his dad's undivided attention but for some ungodly reason his dad was much more attentive to his youngest son. Sam looked up and went to say something-maybe an apology-when Dean cut him off with a sharp punch to his mouth. The hit was enough to split Sam's lip wide open and knock him to the floor.

Sam has reached the age of twenty-one, he's stronger, smarter, more independent but not completely different. One thing that hadn't changed was his fear of his elder brother; a fear that ran chilled him to the bones, a fear stronger than any demon he'll ever face. Their dad is M.I.A., Dean's wasted and Sam's stuck with him cowering in fear like a child.

"C'mon Dream Boy," Dean screamed because somehow this is all Sam's fault even though he has no idea how or why, "Use your voodoo magic and find him, ya' freak!"

Sam flinched sharply and hesitantly looked at Dean. He knew what his brother was talking about, his strange dreams that sometimes alerted him to near-by jobs, a dwindling salt supply and even the location of missing people, but it wasn't like Sam could control it. Hell he didn't even _understand _it. He took a shaky breath and spoke. "It doesn't work like that Dean." He said in an almost-whisper.

Sam had spoken hesitantly, fearfully, and submissively but Dean attacked anyway. His fist collided with Sam's face; hard too, right under his left eye. Sam knows it'll bruise but prays that Dean will stop there. The eldest Winchester doesn't. His fist collides with his face again, this time his jaw is the unlucky victim and Sam could swear he heard it crack with the ferociousness of Dean's attack. He stumbles and his vision blurs with tears of pain and fear. Dean moves at him and Sam instantly covers his face. Dean's fist delivers a brutal upper cut to his gut and Sam's ability to breath suddenly escapes him. Sam goes down to his knees and prays to anything that will hear him that his brother will just leave him there to cry and try to catch his breath.

God, or whatever being heard his plea, is in his favor and Dean left his brother on the ground in favor of catching a warm shower. Sam knows there will be bruising and questions in the morning but Sam will probably blame it on a bar fight. And Dean will probably believe him.

Sam had finally decided that the abuse that Dean dished out was well deserved after he had managed to get his beloved brother sent to the Cage so when Dean gets drunk off his ass and flips shit, Sam lets him.

Dean's alcohol fueled rage is yet again directed at Sam, not that Sam can blame him because God above Sam deserved it. Right? This time Dean's cutting him to ribbons, not with steal but with words. Words that cut so deep into Sam that he knew the scars would never fade. _Monster, demon, freak, all your fault,_ Dean was screaming and Sam knows it's true, knows that he deserves this. When Dean's fists collide with his body Sam doesn't bother to defend himself, he allowed Dean to beat him till he was nothing but bruises and blood. He gave a small hiss of pain when Dean's boot clad foot connects with his ribs. The sound is almost nonexistent but Dean doesn't give a damn, his kicks again, harder, and Sam feels ribs crack. He swallows the scream of pain and slips inside his mind where the pain doesn't hurt so much and he can't hear the cruel words coming from the only human alive that Sam ever loved.

After what seems like an eternity Dean stops the vicious assault and slips into the bathroom for a shower after which he will re-enter the room, ignore Sam and pass out on the bed leaving Sam to wash himself off and think up some lie to feed his brother in the morning.

Dena had finally found out about his younger brother's indulgence in demon blood and needless to say the older Hunter wasn't the least bit happy. When he had drunk himself senseless Sam almost goaded him into hitting him, just to get it over with. He didn't have to goad because Dean's abuse came as mercilessly as ever that night. IT started out per usual, cruel words, sharp hits, blood, and bruised bones but something was different. Dean needed a new way to break Sam or had simply lost it, either way when he shoved Sam face first against the wall, ripped off his clothes and tore into his younger brother Sam had never felt more defeated and helpless. Dean pounded into him until he could hardly stand and blood ran from his torn hole down his long legs. Dean ripped himself out and allowed Sam to slip to the floor and sob. Without a word Dean collapsed onto the bed-unconscious and half dressed.

Sam cleaned him off before walking into the bathroom and staring into the mirror. The person who stared back wore Sam's brown hair and puppy dog features but he wore them all wrong. His eyes were hollow, guilt ridden and hopeless, his cheeks sunken in, face bruised and all around beaten looking. If there was a part of Sam Winchester that felt it didn't deserve the abuse, it shriveled up and died as Sam's sobs of pain, fear, guilt and shame racked his beaten body.

No more. Sam Winchester could simply take more. Too many lies, too much pain, too much negativity, and so much guilt and shame. He was nothing more than a fake smile and a body filled with anguish. The world was coming to an end as the apocalypse neared closer and closer but Sam had died so long ago. He expected his fingers to shake as he wrote but they didn't. Maybe because he was sure in his decision? Sam didn't know but none the less his fingers shook as he wrote his beloved brother.

He placed the note beside him and sat on the bed. He held the pistol in his hand and placed the cold metal weapon to the side of his head, quick and sure, no fucking this up. He couldn't pull the trigger though, not yet. There was one more thing he needed to do. He picked up his cell phone and keyed in Dean's number.

"Sam?" Dean asked as he answered the phone.

Sam needed to say it, needed Dean to hear it before he died. "I love you." Sam hung up, tossed the phone on the floor, put the gun to his head, closed his eyes and pulled the trigger. There was no pain; there was nothing actually, nothing but death's open arms.

Moments later Dean was cradling his sweet brother's dead body, crying and swearing hysterically as the words of the suicide letter screamed though his mind.

_ Beloved brother,_

_ I never meant to hurt you but it seems it's all I could ever do. Please understand that I don't blame you for anything, I deserved this, you see? I can't hurt you anymore, and I think you will be better off without me. Please do not mourn my passing because this is what I wanted. You are the most precious thing to me, Dean, and now I won't cause you anymore problems._

_ I'll keep an eye on you if I go to Heaven, and I'll tell mom you said hi. It's going to be okay now Dean. I love you so much. _

_ Goodbye-_

_ Sam._

I love you. The last thing Dean heard from his baby brother. Dean held Sam's lifeless form in his arms and cried as a sickening realization burned its way through Dean's very being.

His fury had killed Sam.


End file.
